


Dinner

by quaintlullabies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Maybe a little violent, Whats life without a little blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quaintlullabies/pseuds/quaintlullabies
Summary: Response to Hearts & Cauldrons Daily Prompt:1. Meet the family2."Name your price."Dinner.”"I beg your pardon?"
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons - Daily Prompts!, Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	Dinner

“I told you I did not need your help, stupid girl,” he growled through clenched teeth, even while he clutched her closer to his chest. “Are you absolutely incapable of doing as you are told?”

Hermione was trying to focus on several different things at once, and ignore just as many. 

Immediately, she was trying to focus on his voice. It had been a comfort to her for such a long time now, that it immediately relaxed her. Usually. Knowing that voice also meant knowing that the _tone_ of his voice, not the words he was saying, conveyed the fearful undertone of his thoughts. 

The fact that he was worried, worried her more. Which increased her heart rate. Which was something she should avoid, really, considering she didn’t want her blood pumping any harder - she’d bleed out faster. 

She was trying to focus on the smell of his robes, tinged with the scorched smell of spell residue. There had been quite a few of them thrown around. She hadn’t even thought to ask if he was unharmed. 

She opened her mouth to do exactly that, and before she could get a word out, he glared down at her. 

“Silence,” he growled. 

Ok, so he was worried _and_ pissed. 

She was trying to focus on how warm he was. Because she was so cold. 

She was trying _not_ to focus on what she knew about human biology. She was cold because she was losing blood, her heart wasn’t pumping it as far out, because it was trying to keep it beating. Her fingers and toes and arms and legs were cold, because her brain had given up on them; it was trying to keep her alive. She could live without her toes. She couldn’t live without her heart. 

It was a funny thing to think - considering the man who was currently using unassisted flight (which they would most certainly discuss if she lived) to take her … somewhere - held it both literally and figuratively. 

She wasn’t entirely sure when it happened, but it had, and now she probably would never get the chance to tell him. 

She was trying to keep her eyes open, because she was sure the view was beautiful, but mostly because her face was tucked into the side of his neck, and she could see the fine hairs whipping around in the wind. She shivered, and not for the first time. 

“You didn’t see it coming,” she said breathlessly, managing not to cough.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he said, and she thought he was picking up speed. She wondered how long his stasis charm would last. There was a pretty big wound in her chest and she was hoping very much for her lungs not to fill with blood. 

“Oh, you be bloody quiet,” she said. She didn’t manage to keep the cough down this time; she lifted her hand to cover her mouth and noticed the blood on it. She couldn’t tell if it was new or not. 

He hissed, and she almost laughed. “Did you imagine that I would tolerate your cheek in addition to this mess you have unnecessarily created?”

“I’ll probably be dead soon, so you won’t have to worry about it for long,” she replied, wondering if she could sound as indifferent about it as he often did were she not gasping for breath. He ignored her.

“Brace yourself, this will be unpleasant,” he said so quietly that she almost missed it over the sound of the wind whipping around them. 

She didn’t understand for what, until he landed, much more gracefully than she would have imagined, but still jostling her in a way that reminded her that the gaping hole in her chest wasn’t the only problem she had. She whimpered, and he pulled her closer.

She must have lost consciousness, because she awoke sprawled across a table in a candle lit laboratory, while a woman’s hands softly probed her chest. Her natural instinct was to pull away from this stranger, but the woman gently laid her hand on Hermione’s forehead and shushed her. 

“You’re safe, Hermione,” she said, and Hermione struggled to clear her vision to see who was speaking to her. She couldn’t make out any distinct features, mostly just a blob of colors, but the voice was unmistakably feminine. “Severus explained what happened. Thank you for protecting him.”

From across the room, she could hear him scoff. “I did not need protecting. All she managed to do was almost get herself killed.”

“And protect you,” the woman repeated. He scoffed again. 

She could hear the sound of glass vials being moved around before she could hear his voice by her head. “Your chest has been healed, but you will need blood replenisher and I would imagine something for the pain of both the bruises and internal injuries you have sustained.” She could practically hear him roll his eyes.

“I can’t see,” she whispered and coughed. Her mouth was so dry. 

“Yes,” he drawled. “Dolohov’s spells are often multi-layered. You were hit by one before, I cannot imagine why you would want to repeat the experience. Are you able to sit up, Miss Granger?” he asked and she struggled to get her arms under her. She absently noticed that she was no longer cold and her limbs were, in fact, still attached and working. 

After a moment of her struggling, Severus slid his arm under her back and used his leverage to lift her, moving her so that her back rested against the crook of his elbow. “Mother, if you would not mind,” he said and the fog in Hermione’s head almost cleared completely. 

“Mother?” she whispered, and the woman laughed. 

“Yes, dear. I’m Elieen. We will meet properly when you’re feeling better. Open up,” she said softly and Severus tilted Hermione’s head back so that Elieen could lift a glass vial to her lips. She didn’t even hesitate, swallowing the potion as quickly as possible. Almost immediately she began to relax. 

Another potion was placed to her lips, and she repeated the process. Her vision began to clear. She blinked a few times, before she was able to actually make anything out, but when she did, she was most definitely looking into the eyes of Severus Snape’s mother. 

Same dark hair. Same intense black eyes. 

“I’ll go make up the bed in the guest room,” she said, her eyes passing between the two of them. “I’ll see you when you’re able to come upstairs.” Hermione watched as she placed the vials down on the table beside her and crossed the room, shutting the door behind her. 

“What in perdition were you thinking?” he hissed almost immediately after the door shut. “You could have died, you silly girl!”

She managed to cough out a laugh before forcing herself to sit up. She was still bruised and sore, and she would be for days, but she was regaining control over her limbs. Slowly.

“You _would_ have died if I hadn’t acted, and you know it.” She managed to sit up on her own, and he must have been satisfied, for he moved away to stand in front of her. 

“I would have been fine,” he murmured distractedly, lifting both hands to cup her face. Slowly, he began to guide her head from side to side, his fingers in her hair, feeling for any missed injuries. He was close again, and she wondered what he would do if she were to kiss him in that spot right under his jaw where his collar was opened. 

“Mother seems to have healed everything,” he said in that same low tone, and she was glad to hear the worry from earlier was no longer lingering there. He stopped all movement, but his hands didn’t drop from her face. “You are covered in bruises,” he whispered, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “And you are covered in blood. Though I do not think all of it is yours.”

He leaned his face in, and Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed. His kiss was the lightest of touches. Had she not been anticipating it, she would have thought she imagined it. He pulled back just a fraction, his breath still soft against her lips and she opened her eyes. Her vision was filled entirely with his eyes, and while she couldn’t exactly make out every emotion she was seeing, but she recognized at least one. It was mirrored in her own. 

“You do not sacrifice your life for me, Hermione. At any time. _You_ need to live. _You_ need to see this through, even if I am not there to assist you. _You_ have to live, because I cannot do so without you.”

She stuttered out a breath, and he pulled away after moving a blood stained curl from her face. “Are you able to stand?”

She blinked a few times, her mind just barely catching up with the question. He couldn’t live without her? Of all the things she expected to hear that night, _that_ wasn’t even on the list.

“Yes, I think so,” she whispered, and took his hand while he guided her from the table top. 

“Good,” he said with a nod, keeping her hand in his. “Come along; we have much to do, starting with getting you cleaned up. I do not believe a _Scourgify_ will do much good. And I will have to apply the burn paste once you are clean.” He gave her hand a little tug to move her along. 

“Then I’ll be in your debt. What can I do to repay you?” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Name your price.”

He stopped then, and turned to look at her, obviously contemplating his answer. “Dinner,” he answered simply. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“When all of this is over, we shall have dinner together.” He gave her hand a squeeze back. 

“Dinner,” she agreed, before he turned and gave her another tug. They would talk about it later. All of it. But first, she needed to sort out whose blood was in her hair. 

  
  



End file.
